


Shooting

by littlemiss_m



Series: HOME, a series [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Prophecy, Attempted Kidnapping, BAMF Prompto Argentum, Dad!Cor, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Minor Character Death, School Shootings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-14 19:12:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13596555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemiss_m/pseuds/littlemiss_m
Summary: When armed men storm the school, it's up to Prompto to keep Noctis safe until help arrives.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place towards the end of Prompto and Noctis' first year of high school.
> 
> I meant to post this after I finish posting Home from Gralea, but I'm writing too much stuff and at this rate I'll never get everything posted oops. This is going to be a series of short(ish) pieces; I have most of the main arc finished, so I'll be able to update regularly once a week on Wednesdays. Please enjoy! <3

It's past noon on a Saturday on a very sunny spring day, but instead of having fun, they're at the school decorating the hallways in preparation for prom. They're only freshmen but Prompto volunteered for the task because he wants the extra credits, and then Noctis volunteered because he wants to spend time with Prompto. The prom will be held in the new gym, but the committee (full of teenage girls and their sugar-sweet dreams of true love) has decided to built a romantic walkway through some of the hallways so that the couples can enjoy a stroll through a fairytale wonderland.

It sounds ridiculous, like the most stupid idea _ever_ , but Insomnia High is a rich school and by the time Prompto and Noctis make their way to the school, the selected hallways are already lined with tell hedge plants in ceramic pots and the occasional rose vine. They, led by a small senior girl called Lucie, are in charge of hanging thousands and thousands of fairy lights on the ceiling. It looks good, Prompto has to admit, as he gazes at the hallway with the critical eye of an amateur photographer, already seeing the dim hallways only lit by sparkling lights, the girls in their beautiful dresses and the guys in their best suits, couples and friends giggling behind dark green bushes. It looks good, and it's a good idea, even though Noctis looks like he disagrees.

Noctis is standing on a ladder, fixing the lights in a criss-crossing pattern over their heads while Lucie holds onto the coiled string, trying to keep the individual lightbulbs from getting tangled. He's not really needed at this exact second, so Prompto exuses himself to use the bathroom, the nearest of which is right around the corner. It reeks of old cigarette smoke – the classrooms on this floor are hardly ever used anymore, and the old gym sees even less use – and he tries to hurry his way through his business. He's washing his hands when the lights go out.

It's sudden, and strange; Prompto can't remember it ever happening before. He dries his hands with a frown and steps to the door, only to still when movement catches his eye. The bathroom has a line of windows high on the wall and the smokers have attached a small mirror up by the ceiling so they can see if a teacher is coming their way. Prompto knows that the mirror is not visible from the hallway, but when he sees a man in black clothes and a skiing mask walking in his direction, he freezes. The man is carrying a gun.

Cursing under his breath, Prompto digs for his phone. There's no signal even though there should be and that – if anything – tells him this is probably not the usual run-of-the-mill school shooting. He'd meant to text Iggy and Gladio, to get help, but he can't, so he stands still in the bathroom and stares at the steadily approaching man. There's nowhere for him to hide, anyways, and the idea of hiding when Noctis is just around the corner–

Prompto swallows, strains his hearing. The man pauses. ”Highness, please! Highness, get up! Noctis, Noctis, can you hear me?” It's Lucie's voice, and she's begging, but she doesn't sound too terrified – the man ignores the bathroom door and rushes past. Prompto's blood runs cold and he checks his phone one more time – still no signal – and carefully, so carefully, slips the door open. Nothing happens, and when he peeks out, he sees the man disappear behind the corner. Lucie screams, and Prompto steps out of the bathroom, knowing he's about to do something really, really, _really_ fucking stupid, but also knowing that he'll never be able to live with himself if he doesn't at least try.

When he rounds the corner, the man is snapping at Lucie, telling her to move away from where she's kneeling by Noctis' side. He's on the ground, unconscious, blood pooling under his head; there's a visible dent on the old lockers behind him, and the ladder has fallen down nearby. Lucie looks terrified, tears running down her face, but she's between Noctis and the man. Prompto puts a finger on his lips and looks her in the eye as he sneaks up to the man. Right behind him, he blurts out a 'hey' and the man swirls around, the gun swinging along, and then the wrestle begins.

Prompto doesn't actually know what he's doing. He hangs onto the man's arm, squeezes the fingers holding the gun, tries to keep it pointed away from him and Noctis and Lucie. His body hurts from where he's slammed into the ground, shoulders and hips aching, but he doesn't let go. Suddenly the gun goes off and there's warmth seeping through the front of his shirt, and as soon as the scene registers in his mind, he knows that the man is dead. Numb, Prompto pushes the man away from his body and shuffles over to Lucie and Noctis, the gun still in hand.

”Be quiet, there might be more,” he tells her, though he's pretty sure that anyone currently in the building has already heard the gunshot. There's a silencer on the muzzle, he can tell as much – some hysteric part of his minds reminds him that he's the best shooter their usual arcade has ever seen – but the sound was still loud, much louder than he thought it would be. In the games, the silenced guns are always silent.

”He fell down when the lights went out,” Lucie whispers through her sobs. Prompto nods, plucks at Noctis' watch. One of the little buttons and springs is an emergency alarm, though he can't remember which one. Noctis explained it, once, so Prompto digs his nails under each and pulls until one of them pops free. He drops it on the ground and looks at Lucie.

”Can you carry him?” he asks, already knowing the answer, but needing to make sure. Even as a senior, Lucie's the smallest girl in school, so petite the school has to order her uniform special-made. She looks at him, eyes wet with tears, wide in understanding. She can't.

”Okay, help me a bit.” It takes some work, but Prompto somehow manages to throw Noctis over his shoulders in a fireman's carry. He's heavy, so heavy he needs Lucie's help standing up, but she picks up the gun and then hands it over when he shakes his head. ”Let's go to the old gym, if we can.”

Prompto knows the best hiding spot in the school, though finding it was an accident. They start walking, then, slowly inching past corners and glancing back to make sure there's no-one behind them. They're almost to the gym and a faint hope begins to glow in his chest, and that's when the second man shows up. By the time Prompto has the gun up, he knows he's late, but he pulls the trigger once and then twice and the man goes down in a splatter of blood on white-and-black floors.

Next to him, Lucie is on the floor. He's afraid to look, but he has to, so he lowers the gun and twists his head. There's one bullet wound high on her chest, somewhere above her heart, but even Prompto knows it hit too close. A sob threatens to wrench from his lips – he's so tired, so scared, he can't fucking do this – but he turns away and walks on. She's dead, or will be, and he can't carry two people at once. She's not yet dead but she's unconscious and Prompto walks away like a monster, the weight of his best friend on his shoulders, and in that moment, he tells himself that it's Prince Noctis instead of Noct that he's carrying. That makes things okay, a little, just enough to keep him going.

Prompto keeps the gun up but he doesn't run into anyone else. The old gym is empty and dark, thin light streaming through tiny windows. He walks to the bleachers which are set on a concrete platform higher than his knee. It's not the bleachers he's looking for, but what's underneath: the massive storage boxes, full of basket balls, large enough to fit several people. Behind them is the true treasure, though, something the teachers themselves aren't aware of. Prompto doesn't know how it came to be or whose mistake led to it, but the storage boxes aren't deep enough to fill the entire space reserved for them.

There's a crawlspace behind the boxes.

Glancing around, Prompto sets Noctis on the ground and carefully pulls out one of the boxes. His PE class found the space by accident, one of the guys pushing the box deep in and then pulling it out to see how big the space actually was. It's enough to fit two or three people behind each box, they found out, and the teacher just shrugged. Back then, it had almost felt like an adventure, something truly special and curious happening in the middle of the most mundane school day, but now – now it's their best shot at hiding.

It's not easy getting Noctis in the crawlspace, but somehow, Prompto manages. He pushes his friend all the way in, until his back rests against concrete, then crawls out to pull the storage box after. The crawlspace goes dark in seconds and Prompto has to feel with his fingers to make sure the box is all the way in, but not too far. When he's satisfied, he rolls on his side, back to Noctis, and lays the gun on the floor.

There's still no signal on his phone. It's been ten minutes since the last time he looked at his phone, though it's felt like hours. Prompto swallows, knows that helps is on the way, knows that all they can do is wait. He's scared, and worries about Noct, and when footsteps echo into the small space, he takes hold of the gun and readies himself.

”What're those boxes?” someone asks, and Prompto draws in a breath. ”Shit, they had to come this way. You keep on going, I'll check here.”

”We gotta hurry, we've been too long. Get to it.”

One pair of footsteps disappears, but its replaced by the sound of the boxes being pulled out. Prompto waits with bated breath. The box in front of him moves, pulls out. His finger is on the trigger, ready. The box moves back in and he almost cries.

They don't know about the crawlspace.

The person on the other side of the boxes curses and pulls out the last box, but his movements are hurried somehow, and Prompto begins to feel like there's still hope. He lets go of the gun and looks at his phone instead, sees a multitude of texts coming in from Iggy and Gladio and even Cor. With shaking fingers, he taps open the last one.

 **Iggy (2:47 p.m.):** we're on our way, Prompto, please be okay  
**Prompto (3:06 p.m.):** old gym hurry

He puts down the phone and waits. There are people in the gym, speaking, and he knows they're not friends, so he's silent. He's calm, somehow, even when gunfire breaks out in the room. He hears shots, the sound of swords being drawn, the cries of people dying. When the bodies stop falling, Prompto swallows.

”Prompto? Are you here?” he hears Ignis call for him. He kicks at the storage box, tries to push it out, but he's suddenly too tired to move its bulk. He kicks again and hears someone come closer.

”Prompto? Is that you?”

It's Gladio, this time, and Prompto's unable to make much sounds so he kicks at the box until it moves, keeps on kicking until he sees light. Ignis peeks in, then swears at the sight of a gun being pointed at him. Prompto has already forgotten about it.

”Prompto, darling, please put down the gun,” Ignis speaks softly. Prompto complies and watches numbly as a blood-covered hand reaches for the gun. He hears a click, and Ignis puts the gun away. ”Is that Noctis behind you? Can you get out on your own?”

Prompto nods and crawls out, tries to tug Noctis along with him but gives up when he finds his body lacking the strenght to do it. Ignis pulls him as soon as their hands touch, and then he's sitting on the gym floor, watching as a group of Crownsguards stand around. There are five men on the floor, all wearing black masks, all drowning in blood.

”Prompto? Kid?” He's only vafuely aware of strong hands picking him up and lifting him to sit on the edge of the platform. He blinks, looks up at Cor. ”Are you injured? Shit, is any of this yours?”

There's a lot of blood on him, he realizes suddenly. He feels sick but speaks up nevertheless. ”I'm good,” he says, voice weak even to his own ears. ”This is – that man's, and Lucie's, and maybe Noct's – I'm good.”

”What's wrong with Noctis?” Ignis asks suddenly. Prompto looks over, sees that he's managed to pull Noctis out of the crawlspace. Gladio hovers next to him, worried.

”He fell from the ladder,” Prompto says. ”I think he hit his head. I was in the bathroom.”

He's beginning to feel calm. Cor wraps a jacket around his shoulders and he tugs at it, turning to smile at the man. The smile freezes on his face when he sees the dead men on the floor. ”I killed two men,” he says softly. Several eyes glance in his direction, but nothing happens, except that Cor sits down by his side and puts an arm around him.

”That's okay,” he says, ”you did really good, kid.”

Prompto leans into Cor's side and watches as an ambulance crew rushes into the room. One of them takes a brief look at Prompto, but mostly they hover around Noctis, peeking under his eyelids and touching around the still-bleeding wound in his head. They get him on a stretcher and take him out, Gladio leaving immediately. He's covered in blood, too.

Ignis, though, stays behind a moment. He crouches down next to Prompto, who's calm, but cold somehow, a little distanced from everything. The medic said he was in shock, so it's probably that. ”Prompto,” Ignis whispers, touching his face. His gloves are gone. ”I am so, so happy too see okay, sweetheart.”

Prompto nods, but it's Cor who speaks. ”Prompto,” he says slowly, ”if you want to, you can go with Ignis to the Citadel, get some rest and maybe talk to someone. I think – I think, if you're up to it, I'd like you to walk me through what just happened. It's your choice, and either one is okay.”

Prompto looks at Ignis, who's thin-lipped but trying to smile, and Cor who is smiling, and nods. ”I can do that,” he says. ”Um, is it, is it – okay, to go there?”

”The entire campus has been secured,” Cor replies, standing up. ”I have men everywhere. It's safe.”

Prompto gets up from the platform and lets Ignis hug him, warm and hard. A thought hits him but he waits until Ignis leaves, heels snapping against the bloodied floorboards. ”What about the other students?” he asks, because the three of them weren't the only ones at school.

”Unharmed,” Cor answers. He puts his arm on Prompto's shoulders and tries to lead him out of the gym, towards the door, but Prompto shakes his head and goes for the storage room instead. Cor follows. ”The other students were herded into the new gym, but they received no injuries beyond mild bruising.”

Prompto thinks about Lucie while Cor opens the storage door. The room is dark and dusty, like the crawlspace had been, and they walk past blue gym mats and a ceiling-high pile of desks before they reach the second door. This one is locked, Prompto knows, but it opens from the inside. Outside, the hallway is full of green plants and roses, and Cor looks confused.

This is how close they were, Prompto thinks. There's a staircase going up to their right, and once they reach the next floor, they'll be right where everything started. So close, but so far, because the door doesn't open from this side without the key, and the way around was too long and too – he doesn't have a word, but he remembers the men and Lucie and the blood, the ring of gunshots in his ears.

”Is this it?” Cor asks when they reach the landing. Prompto nods, points out the pool of Noct's blood next to the fallen ladder and the dead man on the floor. There's a Crownsguard standing at the end of the hallway, keeping watch.

”I was in the bathroom,” Prompto says. ”I'll show you.”

They walk past the blood and the body and the guard, to the hallway where Prompto stops outside the bathroom door and squints at the windows up by the ceiling. ”There's a mirror inside, so the kids who smoke can see if teachers are coming,” he explains. ”I saw a man with a gun and tried to text Iggy and Gladio, but my phone didn't work.”

”They had jammers in a car outside,” Cor says. He opens the door and peeks at the mirror. ”Clever. What happened next?”

”I – the man was gonna come inside, but then we both heard Lucie calling out Noct's name, and he turned around. I, I followed him, and then I wrestled him and the gun went off and he was dead. Then I picked up Noct and we left.”

They walk down the hallway in the same direction he'd walked less than an hour before and Prompto's crying before they even reach the last stretch. Then they turn around a corner and he stops crying, because there's a dead man and a Crownsguard and two distinct pools of blood, but no Lucie.

”Prompto?” Cor asks. ”Do you want to stop?”

”No, I, I – Lucie, where's Lucie?” he cries. Cor doesn't understand – he hasn't asked about Lucie even though Prompto's mentioned her name more than once, and he doesn't know why – but the Crownsguard steps closer, clearing his throat.

”Sir, there was a girl here,” he says, ”gunshot wound to upper chest. She was alive when we got here, and Ferratum rushed her out to the ambulance. I – I was under the impression he called her in.”

Prompto stops breathing for a second, looks up to the Crownsguard even as Cor's hold of his shoulders tighten. ”But she was dead,” he whispers, even though he knows she probably wasn't. ”She was dead.”

The guard smiles down at him. ”No, she was alive. I won't lie, she's not in a good shape, but she was alive when I last saw her.”

”Oh.” And that's all he has to say. He stares at the guard for a moment, then turns to Cor, suddenly exhausted. His left arm is starting to hurt really bad and Cor's jacket isn't enough to keep him warm anymore. His clothes are damp with drying blood, he realizes, suddenly sick.

”The gym's just around that corner,” he whispers, looks up ahead. Cor walks him there, and then into the gym. The bodies are still on the floor.

”I think we're done here,” Cor says. He talks to one of the Crownsguards but Prompto's not listening anymore, and then they're walking again, following blood-red footsteps out of the gym and out of the school, to Cor's car. ”Let's get you buckled in.”

Prompto's body's gone numb, so it's Cor who sits him down in the front seat and leans in with the seatbelt in hand, and it's Cor who pulls a coarse blanket out of somewhere and drapes it over Prompto's shivering body. The blanket smells like the car, old and musty, but not unclean, and the car looks the same.

”I left her behind,” he says when Cor sits down behind the wheel. ”My arm hurts really bad.”

Cor doesn't speak. He turns the keys in the ignition and a blast of warm air hits Prompto's face, then reaches for the glove compartment and pulls out what looks like a juice pouch and probably is one. He breaks open the seal on the drinking cap and places the pouch in Prompto's shaking hands with an order to drink it.

It's not juice, but some kind of a smooth fruit puré, sweet and tangy on Prompto's tongue. He sucks at the cap and swallows, then suckles some more. The car roars and speeds down a road, and Cor's silent next to him, but somehow he's starting to feel secure once more.


	2. Chapter 2

Noctis wakes up to a massive headache. His head feels like it's about to split, like it's already been split, and it takes him way too long before he can crack his eyelids open. When he finally manages, it's just in time to see a figure in a thick, black coat hurrying to press a button somewhere above his head.

”D'd,” he slurs, tongue thick and heavy in his mouth. He blinks and tries to look around, sees white walls and gray shadows. Someone enters the room, and he recognizes her as his physician.

”He's waking up,” Regis murmurs to her. Noct realizes he's holding his hand. There's more talk over his head, voices asking him to wake up and open his eyes and not to go back to sleep, and it takes a long time, but eventually he's able to follow the orders. He's vaguely aware of something really bad happening, but his head really hurts and even the dimmed lights make his eyes water.

”Wha's g'n o-on,” he tries to ask. Regis smooths back his bangs.

”You had a bit of an accident,” the physician says softly. She shines a light in his eyes and he recoils. ”Can you tell me your name?”

It takes him a beat or two before he can answer, his brain slow and hurting, his tongue uncooperative, but he does. She goes through the usual questions of what day it is and who's the king and how is he feeling, and it's difficult, but he's able to answer them all. Slowly, Noctis finds his thoughts clearing up, enough to properly recognize the room he's in, though he still doesn't know why he's there.

”What happened?” he asks, again, clearer this time.

”You hit your head pretty bad,” the physician answers. ”You have a concussion, on top of which you lost some blood. Does your head hurt?”

Noctis tries to nod. ”A lot. But it's getting better, or at least I can think again.”

Both Regis and the physician nod, looking pleased. She continued to examine him and eventually leaves the room, with orders to remain in bed. Noctis doesn't think he could stand up even if he wanted to. His head still feels like someone was herding garulas in there but his mind is starting to feel normal enough, if a bit slow, and he doesn't like the expression on his father's face. Regis looks relieved but there's still a deep frown hiding behind his tight smile, and he keeps on glancing at his phone every now and then.

”Dad,” Noctis whispers. His mouth is dry. ”What's really going on?”

Regis sighs and guides a spoonful of ice to his lips. Noctis suckles on the cold chunks, enjoying the feeling, but at the same time an uncomfortable feeling spreads in his guts. ”You really did hit your head,” Regis begins. He looks tired. ”How much of today do you remember?”

Noctis racks his brain, tries to think back. He's fairly sure it's Saturday, but nothing about anything seems significant, except – ”I'm supposed to be at school,” he blurts out. Regis shakes his head.

”Son, you _were_ at school,” he says. ”You, Prompto, and a senior girl called Lucie were decorating the hallways for tomorrow's prom. Do you remember?”

Noctis doesn't, and he says as much. He knows he was supposed to head over with Prompto, and he knows that Lucie's in the prom committee and involved in the decorations, so it all makes sense; he just doesn't remember anything about the day, not even waking up. He's not sure where his memories end, but he knows he's missing at least a full day.

It's scary, even if he's familiar enough with head trauma to understand that amnesia is pretty much expected at times.

Regis sighs and squeezes his hand. ”A group of ten armed men stormed the school,” he says, and Noctis feels cold all over. ”Prompto is resting just a few rooms down; his physical injuries are less severe than yours, but he's in shock and quite frightened. Lucie was shot. She's still in surgery. No-one else was hurt.”

It's a lot to take in. Noctis closes his eyes and tries to calm down. It helps that he knows Prompto's safe, but he doesn't like how tight his father's voice sounds. ”There's still something else you're not telling me,” he says.

”I don't want to worry you too much so soon,” Regis replies, words dripping worry. ”Prompto saved your life, son. He triggered the emergency alarm on your watch and carried you to a hiding space. He shot two men.”

Noctis can't remember anything. ”Where was I?” he murmurs, eyes still closed.

”The attack began with the lights going out,” Regis says. ”You were standing on a ladder and fell down. You were unconscious through the entire thing, so it's understandable that you'd have no memories of anything happening.”

He doesn't really know how to respond to that, or even what to think. Prompto's okay, he tells himself, then wonders just how badly Lucie was shot, then gets stuck on the part where Prompto somehow managed to kill not one but two people, all for him. ”He's not in any trouble, is he?” he asks, then quickly clarifies: ”Prompto, I mean.”

Regis shakes his head. ”No, quite the opposite in fact. We'll be rewarding him a medal or two as soon as things calm down a bit.”

”That's good.” Noctis looks at his father, holds onto the hand resting on his fingers. ”I want to see the security footage.”

He expects a refusal and sees it pass his father's face, but eventually Regis sighs and nods his head. He lets go of Noctis' hand and walks over to a desk, where his suitcase is resting. ”I suppose it's only right you see what happened,” he says, removing a tablet from the suitcase. He doesn't say that people are dead because of Noctis, or that Noctis' best friend is now a killer because of Noctis. He doesn't need to; the first one is a conversation they've already had more than once before.

The security footage is clear, the cameras replaced during the previous summer in preparation for Noctis attending the school, and there are many of them. On the screen, there are two different feeds filming Noctis, Prompto, and Lucie, the first one a bit further away, the second so close that Noctis can see the reflections on Prompto's eyes when he turns away and exits the frame. A third camera feed turns on, showing Prompto entering a bathroom.

A moment later, the lights go out. Noctis watches himself fall down from the ladder, Lucie startling but too slow to react. He hits the lockers, then the floor, and within seconds there's blood on the checkerboard tiles. Lucie pulls out her phone, then discards it a moment later without calling anyone.

”The attackers used cell phone jammers to stop all communication around the school,” Regis notes quietly. Noctis nods. It's pretty standard, though not something the average kidnappers would have access to. Then again, the people coming after him are rarely of the average kind.

On the screen, a man appears near the bathrooms. He stops at the door and Noctis' heart skips a beat, but then both the man and Prompto tilt their heads – like they were listening to something, he realizes – and the man marches away. Prompto follows and Noctis would curse his friend's stupidity if said stupidity wasn't the exact same thing that likely saved him from either being kidnapped or assassinated.

Prompto wrestles the man, and in the meanwhile, Lucie throws her body over his. Noctis can't tell if it's instinctive or if she's actually trying to protect him, but in the end, it doesn't matter. ”She needs a medal too,” he says. Regis nods; that, too, is already being handled.

The man dies in an accident and Noctis watches as numb shock floods Prompto's face. Still, he somehow has it in him to trigger the alarm and heft Noct's own body over his shoulders, and gun in hand, blood dripping down his shirt, he leads Lucie away from the scene. They don't go far and Noctis realizes soon exactly where they're headed – the old gym, and he remembers the crawlspace under the bleachers – but before that, they run into the second man. Prompto, though armed, is not ready. He lifts his gun slowly and shoots, but Lucie's already down on the floor, bleeding from a wound on her chest. The man goes down and Noctis almost wants to shut down the footage.

He doesn't. Prompto did this for him, so tears in his eyes, he watches as Prompto turns around to look at Lucie, makes his decision, and leaves. His face is crumbling, but there's steel in his eyes. ”Oh gods,” Noctis murmurs. His heart breaks. He doesn't have the same experience – he inevitably will, one day – and even so he knows that while Prompto's decision is technically the right one, it will never cease to haunt him. Lucie looks dead, but she's not, and the cameras switch as Prompto enters the gym and heads for the bleachers. Noctis smiles, but just a little.

”I want to see him,” he demands.

”You will,” Regis replied. He's looking at his phone. ”He's still resting, but I'll let the staff know you're expecting him. Meanwhile, you should get some rest as well. Will you be alright if I leave?”

Noctis nods, slowly. ”What's – did something–”

”Young Lucie has survived her operation,” Regis cuts in and relief floods Noctis' veins. ”I need to talk with her parents, but if you need me here, I'll stay.”

”No, it's okay, you can go.” A student getting shot because of him is kind of a PR nightmare, and he's starting to feel tired again, emotionally exhausted after watching the footage. He doesn't resist when Regis reaches to tuck him in, something he hasn't done in years, and he's barely conscious when silver-gray beard scrapes against his forehead. Regis leaves, but he's already asleep.

* * *

The next time Noctis wakes up, there's a heavy weight curled around his left side and he knows without opening his eyes that it's Prompto next to him. They're both under the blanket, warm and cozy, and he smiles at his friend. Prompto's awake, pale and eyes bruised; he's wearing Citadel scrubs and his left arm's in a sling.

”Prom,” Noctis murmurs. He has a face full of golden hair, yet he doesn't have it in himself to care. ”What's with your arm?”

He doesn't think Prompto was expecting the question because his friend blinks at him, a bit dazed, and looks at his arm for a long minute before answering. ”My wrist's broken,” he says eventually, ”and, like, a bullet grazed my elbow. It barely broke the skin, but the area's pretty much nothing but bones, so, uh, y'know.”

Noctis doesn't know but he can guess, so he grimaces and hooks a leg behind Prompto's ankles. ”Sounds like shit,” he says. ”Didn't they give you any potions?”

”They did, and painkillers, but the doctor said it's gonna be sore for a couple days.”

Prompto's voice is quiet and dejected as he speaks, and Noctis wants nothing more than to undo the events of the day. His best friend hasn't been truly fine once during the time they've known each other, but he's never let his worries show either, and seeing him so openly upset is distressing. Noctis stares at the ceiling and thinks.

”I saw the security footage,” he says eventually. Prompto flinches. ”Thanks for saving me.”

”I killed two men,” Prompto whispers against his shoulder. ”I shot them.”

”Yeah.” Noctis will never forget the look on his face after each kill, the terror, the numbness. On the screen of his dad's tablet, Prompto looked like someone two seconds away from giving up, but he didn't. ”You did so great back there.”

Prompto is silent for a long moment. ”Is it okay thought?” he asks feebly. ”That I killed them.”

”Dad's gonna get you a medal for it,” Noctis says. ”You're not in any trouble, though there's probably gonna be a formal investigation or some shit.”

”Yeah,” Prompto murmurs. Noctis gets the feeling he answered the wrong question. ”But – you're not mad, are you? That I – that I killed for you.”

Noctis closes his eyes and takes a breath. He understands, now. ”The only thing I'm mad about is that you were put in that position in the first place,” he says carefully. ”You're not the first person to kill for me, so I'm not upset about that. I just wish you didn't have to do that.”

Everyone in his life receives some form of training; even the maids have to take the most basic self-defense classes. Gladio and Ignis have both killed for him before, and in the aftermath they were messes for the next several days; unlike Prompto, they had actually been trained to kill. Prompto has sat in on a handful of Noctis' lessons with Gladio and knows how to escape a choke hold. Now he knows how to kill, too, but Noctis doesn't know how to deal with a killer who hasn't been trained to kill.

”This fucking sucks,” Prompto huffs. Noctis agrees. ”Are you okay, though? Iggy said you have a concussion.”

”My head hurts worse than ever before, and I think I'm missing a day or two, but other than that, I'm good, I promise.”

The expression on Prompto's face is a mixture of worry and relief. They stop speaking, then, comfortable in cuddling. Noctis' mind is still reeling from everything he's learned since first waking up; none of it feels right or true, and he fears the moment the events begin to sink in. He presses a kiss on Prompto's head and closes his eyes.

He's not sure if he falls asleep or not, but when a knock sounds at the door, he's groggy and more than a little tired. Prompto tenses in his arms and twists to look over his shoulders, relaxing when he sees it's just Ignis and Gladio coming in. Ignis has a covered tray in his hands, which he sets on the bedside table.

”I have dinner for the two of you,” Ignis says. ”Let's get you set up.”

It takes a bit of shuffling, but soon Noctis and Prompto sit cross-legged on the bed, facing each other. Ignis sets the tray between them and uncovers the food, revealing one bowl of green curry soup and a plate with fried fish and thick fries, zero veggies. Noctis grins despite himself and picks up his fork.

”You're the best, Specs,” he says.

”I do try,” Ignis smiles. He touches Noctis' shoulder with one hand and ruffles Prompto's hair with the other. ”It's good to see you're both up and awake.”

Gladio and Ignis take their seats next to the bed and a companionable silence falls over them as they eat. Noctis is starving, too used to his life to lose appetite over assassination attempts; Prompto, on the other hand, only picks at his food. He does try to eat, carefully spooning soup towards his mouth, but Noctis can see he's struggling to swallow. He finishes half of the bowl before giving up. There are tears on his face.

”I think I wanna go home now,” Prompto sniffles. Ignis is up in a flash, dabbing at Prompto's face with a soft handkerchief. Noctis and Gladio share a look.

”It's been a long day, sweetheart,” Ignis murmurs. It only makes Prompto cry harder. ”Perhaps it'd be best to stay with Noctis for now.”

”But the doctor said I could go home,” Prompto cries. Noctis sees Ignis' lips twitch dangerously. ”And Cor promised to drive me.”

Noctis looks at both Ignis and Gladio, knows they're all more than a little disheartened by Prompto's tears. They all understand, though, in their own ways, so Noctis isn't surprised when Gladio sighs and pulls out his phone while Ignis holds Prompto against his chest. Noctis picks up the curry bowl and sets it on the table so it won't spill.

”Cor said he'll be here in fifteen,” Gladio says. He doesn't sound happy about it.

Prompto nods against Ignis' chest and Noctis resumes eating. Fifteen minutes later, there's a knock at the door and Cor marches right in, a heavily frowning Clarus in tow. There's the usual round of greetings before Cor stops by Prompto's side.

”Prompto,” he says, ”I hear you're ready to go home.”

”Yeah,” Prompto whimpers in response. He's stopped crying, but his voice is still raspy.

”Okay. Your doctors have cleared you, so we can go whenever you want to.”

”Are you sure, kid?” Clarus asks from where he's standing. He doesn't want to let Prompto go. Noctis isn't sure if Prompto's dad is home or not, but neither option sounds good to him. ”Wouldn't you rather stay with your friends?”

Cor shoots a scathing glare in Clarus' direction. ”Asking for some peace and quiet is easily the most reasonable thing I have heard all day,” he says, and, well, there's nothing Noctis can try to counter with. Prompto values his privacy above anything else and they all know it. ”Are you ready, Prompto?”

”Yeah,” Prompto answers. He looks at Noctis, bites his lip. ”Sorry.”

”It's okay, dude,” Noctis says, even though it's pretty much a lie. ”Just keep your phone on, okay? Text me when you get home.”

A moment later, Cor leads Prompto out of the room and fear clenches at Noctis' heart. He looks up at Ignis, who's frowning in worry, and at Gladio who looks ready to start punching walls. They all know Prompto's the kind of a guy who licks his wounds in a quiet corner somewhere, but it doesn't make the situation any easier to swallow.


	3. Chapter 3

This time around Prompto is conscious enough to actually get a look at Cor's car, so he does. It's an older model, kept clean and tidy so well it almost carries the smell of a new car somewhere under the musk of old fabric and well-worn surfaces. Prompto likes the car, he decides, even thought it's noisy and the motor sputters something awful when the speedometer hits a certain number. Other than the motor, the ride is silent. He likes that, too.

It's late enough in the evening that dusk is starting to fall, streetlights flickering on one-by-one. The traffic is relatively heavy and Prompto gazes at the cars around them, wondering if any of the passengers were at the school earlier that day. Wonders what the radio channels are saying about the thing. Wonders how many people know, and how much they know.

He's deep in thought when Cor turns the car to his street, but not so lost he wouldn't recognize the cookie cutter houses he sees almost every day. It's an older neighborhood, still nice and decent, but some of the lawns are getting overgrown and more than one house is in desperate need of new paint. Prompto's house is one of these.

Cor slows down and parks on the driveway. The lights are out and the rental car is missing.

”Is John home?” Cor asks, peering around. Prompto shakes his head.

”Left yesterday morning,” he says.

It's a good thing he didn't have any serious injuries, because otherwise he wouldn't have been able to talk the doctor out of calling his dad. He cited every excuse he had, from the spotty connection at the sea power plant to the really tight rules about cell phone usage, and the doctor swallowed each word with only a small frown.

”And he'll be back in three weeks, right?”

”Yeah.” Three weeks of work, one week home. Prompto has almost a full month before he has to face his dad again, and next to him, Cor sighs like he's able to read thoughts now.

”You gonna be okay?”

The thing is, Prompto doesn't know. At the Citadel, back in Noct's hospital room, all he wanted was to go home, where he could be alone and as miserable as he wanted. Now that he's here, though, he sees the dark windows and the locked front door and feels nothing but fear. He thought it'd be okay since his dad is gone and he actually likes his little nook of a room, but he's starting to think he made a mistake. He's crying before he knows it.

Cor is silent for a while, simply watching Prompto out of the corner of his eye. Then he sighs and turns to him. ”I have an empty guest room at my place, if you want to come over,” he says.

Prompto doesn't even need to think. ”Please,” he cries, angry at himself for first wanting one thing and then asking for another. Cor doesn't seem to mind, though, or at least he doesn't say anything as he restarts the car and backs out of the driveway. Prompto sobs into his hands and ignores the changing scenery.

Cor lives in an apartment complex near the Citadel, though 'near' in this case means that running through the park only takes ten or so minutes, while driving around it takes closer to thirty. They park on the street and Prompto exits the car, looking around in a daze. The apartment complex itself is an old building; not the good kind of old with vaulted ceilings and hardwood floors, but not the bad kind either. It simply is. The facade has a new coat of paint that renders the building unrecognizable to Prompto, but the park – the park, he realizes, is almost the same.

There's a children's playground only a short walk from where they're standing. It's surrounded by a wooden fence, and inside there is a massive jungle gym with two slides, one straight and one curved. Prompto stares at it. ”Didn't – is that the park with the rocking chocobo thing?” He remembers, vaguely, a yellow chocobo on a massive coiled spring, designed to gently rock a little kid back and forth.

Cor frowns, then blinks, clearly surprised. ”Yeah, yeah, it is,” he says. ”They tore it down some years ago, though, when they built the jungle gym. Didn't think you'd remember.”

Prompto can't decipher the look on Cor's face, so he doesn't even try. ”Me neither,” he says, then turns to follow Cor into the building. They take an elevator to the ninth floor; the small lobby on the first floor has clearly been renovated not a long time ago, but the hallway on the ninth floor is old, green plastic on the floor and white paint on the walls. Prompto thinks it's maybe a little familiar, too, but he isn't sure.

Cor's apartment is the most confusing place of all, because he knows he's been inside more than once but he can't remember anything beyond that, and once he steps in he starts mixing faded memories with the present and messes everything up. The apartment is on the smaller side, a good size for a bachelor, and though the design is a bit utilitarian, it still has a lived feel to it. In the living room, the bookshelves are almost overflowing and the kitchen actually has a couple plotted plants on the windowsill. There are three more doors in the hallway, but one has a wooden sign on it declaring it a toilet.

”I'll show you the guest room,” Cor says. They kick off their shoes and step in.

It's a bit dusty and there's a pile of cardboard boxes in one corner, but otherwise the room is nice and clean. Cor opens the door to the ensuite and turns on the lights, glancing around. ”Right,” he murmurs. ”There's soap and other stuff in the bathroom, feel free to use anything you see. Do you need clothes?”

Prompto thinks he probably should've stopped to pack a bag while he was home. He shakes his head, though, smoothing out his hoodie. It's one of Noct's shirts, a thick and fluffy monstrosity that's better than any blanket. ”I'm good,” he says, and Cor nods.

”I'll get you a towel, then.” He leaves and reappears a moment longer, towel in hand. ”Here. I'm gonna cook up something to eat, but you don't have to join me if you don't want. Let me know if you need anything.”

He leaves, again, but this time he closes the door. Prompto stares after him for a moment, then tiptoes to the door, heart beating in his chest. He can hear Cor walk about, feet heavy on plastic floor. The lock clicks loudly when he twists it and he knows Cor heard it, but the pattern of the footsteps doesn't stutter.

Prompto stands at the door, forehead pressed against it, then turns and heads for the ensuite. He flushes the dust from the bottom of the bathtub with a bit of warm water before plugging it, and while the tub fills, he strips down as carefully as he can. His wrist is okay unless he twists it too far, but every single movement makes his elbow ache; the potions healed the injuries but left the pain. It'll be at least two or three days before the pain goes down, the doctor told him. The only upside is that at least he can't injure himself any further.

The tub is full. Prompto sits on the bottom, cradles his left arm. There's still a smear of brown blood on his chest.

* * * 

He ends up refilling the tub twice before he gets out. The thought of Cor's water bill makes him wince but he's pretty sure the man is loaded enough to buy a house in Gladio's neighborhood, so he tries to tell himself it's okay, just this once. When he gets dressed again, his arm hurts so bad he wants to cry.

There's a vague smell of food wafting through the door when Prompto pads over to unlock it. Instead of leaving the room, though, he sits on the bed and sends Noct a quick message about being at Cor's. He's not in the mood for a conversation, so he puts the phone facedown on the nightstand before carefully lowering himself onto the bed.

He's so tired. It's just past nine in the evening and he has no idea where the entire day has gone. At times, minutes stretch into hours while hours shrink down to minutes, and Prompto feels dizzy just thinking about. The radiating pain doesn't help any, nor does his mood.

He feels safe, though, despite everything else. He can still hear Cor moving around, and he's starting to think it's intentional. The next-door neighbor is blasting some kind of a sports game and cheers along occasionally; at first, Prompto startled, but now he listens with an almost-smile on his lips. It's so domestic, somehow, Cor and the neighbor and the jungle gym outside. Secure.

He's not quite asleep when Cor knocks at the door, asking for permission before coming in. Prompto doesn't have the energy to sit up so Cor squats down by the bed. ”How're you feeling, kid?” he asks.

”Okay,” Prompto says, then backtracks: ”My arm hurts.”

Cor nods. ”I've got your painkillers, but you should eat something first. I made a pasta bake that's still warm, if you're up to it.” 

”Yeah.”

”Good. You wanna eat here or in the kitchen?”

He doesn't want to leave the room, so Cor brings the food to him, a bowl of creamy-looking pasta with chunks of chicken thrown in, topped with cheese that's still perfectly gooey in some parts, nice and crispy elsewhere. It's not Iggy's cooking, but Prompto's suddenly starving and he almost inhales the meal in his hunger. Earlier, in Noct's hospital room, he ate just for the sake of eating, knowing it'd make him feel a bit better, even when the curry soup tasted like ash in his mouth. Now, he eats because he hungers, and it's not long before the bowl is empty and a heavy weight settles in his stomach.

Cor doesn't say anything, just hands him a white pill and then a glass of water. ”It's the same medicine as earlier today,” he says. ”It'll make you sleepy, maybe a little loopy.”

Prompto remembers dozing off in his own room at the Citadel, and then again in Noctis' bed, so he nods, secretly thankful. He's exhausted beyond explanation but the day has been so much that he doesn't know if he's actually able to fall asleep. He's afraid of nightmares, too, already; terrified of sleeping, but too frustrated with staying awake.

He gets under the blankets and Cor leaves, turning off the lights as he goes. Prompto curls into himself and tries to find a position that doesn't hurt his arm. He's a killer now, he thinks. He killed two men and saved one. Iggy's hands were bloody in the gym, so he probably killed someone too, and Gladio as well. Cor certainly has killed before, men and women and maybe even children, back when different men ruled Lucis and Nifflheim both. They're all okay, so maybe he'll be too, one day.

* * *

In his own bedroom, Cor sits by the window and stares at the children's playground in the park. It's too late for any children to be outside anymore but there are a couple teens sitting in the jungle gym, just hanging out and not causing any trouble. In his hands, he holds an old faded photograph of a little toddler sitting in a chocobo rocker, trying to eat his own fist. The boy has golden hair and shockingly blue eyes that are welling with tears because a younger Cor is trying to keep him from eating his muddy fingers. The photograph's a little shaky; John laughed when he took it, way too amused by Cor's desperation.

In the picture, Prompto is three years old. The one sleeping in the guest room is fifteen, but still the same boy. Cor has missed too many years of his godson's life and now that he has him back, he's not willing to let anything come between them ever again.

His phone flashes with an oncoming call from Clarus. With a tired sigh, Cor puts down the photograph and answers the phone. ”Yeah.”

”Hey. Everything good on your end?”

”Kid's sleeping. Got some food and meds into him.”

”Right.” Clarus pauses. ”Listen, Cor, I'm still not happy about you taking him away from here, but I guess you were right in the end.”

”I told you he needed some time alone,” Cor sighs, again, and pinches the bridge of his nose. ”He loves those guys more than anything, yeah, but they'd have suffocated him before he was ready for their help.”

”I suppose,” Clarus agrees. ”Listen, you've got tomorrow free, and if you need more time, just let me know. Noctis is going to be fine in a day or two and the girl is stable. It's still early to say for sure but the doctors are optimistic about her recovery.”

”That's good.” Cor knows that whether she lives or dies, Lucie's place in the events will most likely haunt Prompto for the rest of his life. ”How's the investigation going?”

”One of the three men died in custody,” Clarus replied readily. ”The two others are still silent but based on their equipment, we're assuming their object was kidnapping rather than assassination. We have only identified four of the ten men for sure, and they're all from the frontier. That's all we have for now.”

Cor feels a headache coming. The world has been at peace since the end of King Mors' reign, and though Emperor Iedolas and Regis aren't exactly friends, they're both committed to upkeeping the peace. Still, memories of old wars have left scars and years later, none of the frontier towns have reached their pre-war glory.

It's a mess, but it's not as bad as things could be. Cor bids Clarus good night and returns to staring at the park, where the teenagers still loiter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weekly updates?? Make that bi-weekly from now on, or I'll still be posting this story come summer. If you liked this story, the series isn't over and frequent updates are to be expected!!


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